


Hurricane Drunk

by Scarlett_Rogue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drunkenness, Hangover, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 08:22:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1772242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scarlett_Rogue/pseuds/Scarlett_Rogue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I brace myself, cause I know it's going to hurt. But I like to think at least things can't get any worse." </p>
<p>Cas isn't taking well to being human a second time and tries to numb the pain with alcohol. Dean is there to pick up the pieces. Inspired by Hurricane Drunk by Florence + the Machine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hurricane Drunk

He should be in the hospital.

Dean knew it the second he came home to find empty bottles littered all over the table and in the sink, one of two shattered on the floor. Loud music blared from Sam’s stupid radio and for a brief few seconds Dean suspected Castiel had thrown a party while he and Sam were playing FBI. 

But nobody else was home. Just an unconscious human slumped over in a chair. A bottle was spilling out on the floor as if Cas drank until he passed out and the bottle fell from his fingers.

Dean knew right away he should take Cas to the hospital and have his stomach pumped. A man his weight doesn’t drink two or three cases of beer in less than two hours and not get poisoning. He knew as he was attempting to to lift Cas into his arms, body limp and heavy, that he really needed to get him some help. And when that didn’t work, when the little guy proved to be so much heavier than Dean initially expected, Dean knew he needed to call an ambulance. 

Cas waking up out of nowhere to throw up all over his red plaid shirt stopped him, but he promised himself he’d call as soon as he got Cas to the bathroom.

The call never happened; Castiel’s body did the trick just fine. The toilet bowl became his best friend and Dean lost count of how many times he’s thrown up, but it was enough to calm Dean’s fear about any kind of poisoning. Cas would be okay.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Dean demanded as he pressed a cold cloth to Cas’s sweaty forehead during hour fourteen. Cas was looking pale, skin washes out and sickly looking.

“I-I don’t know,” Cas groaned, a hand to his stomach. His voice sounded awful; the raw sound made Dean cringe. 

“Sure you don’t,” Dean muttered, but he let it go. Cas curled up on himself, letting his body fall to the bathroom floor slowly. Dean gently pulled his head into his lap and kept rubbing the cloth over his face. Dean figured if the ex-angel threw up on him again it wouldn’t be a huge loss - his jeans were a little too baggy and holey for his taste anyway. 

He didn’t have to worry about his pants anyway. Cas was snoring softly not even two minutes later. Dean texted Sam, not wanting to yell and wake the older man up, and together they moved Cas to his bed.

-

Twelve hours or solid sleep later and Cas was running - a good sign - to the bathroom to give it one more go. He emerged a few minutes later, eyes a little red and puffy, and curled in the corner of the couch. Dean brought him a glass of water say next to him, making sure he got enough to drink. If he could keep that down Dean would give him some gentle food and painkillers for the headache he must be suffering from at this point, judging by the hand he had pressed firmly to the side of his head.

“You gonna tell me what made think downing 14 beers in two hours was a good idea?” Dean said patiently. He could wait, but damn if he wasn’t getting an answer eventually.

“I just…” Cas looked away and took another sip of water. When he looked back at Dean his eyes were filling with tears. “I wanted the pain to stop.”

Dean felt his heart sick. He knew Cas didn’t take well to being human, even now that he was living with the Winchesters. But damn it all, he had no idea it was this bad. He should have known.

Dean captured Cas’s face between his hands gently, fighting back his own tears.

“Shit way of going about it,” he said gruffly. Cas choked out a bitter laugh and buried his head in Dean’s shoulder. Dean held him as he cried, the tremors running through his own body, and after a while he didn’t know if they were coming from Cas or him.

“Don’t do this, Cas. Don’t do this to yourself.” 

Tight fists digging into his back was the only answer, but he felt Cas relax against him. He stroked him back and held him for God knows how long. He’d gladly hold him forever if it meant he could stop Cas from falling apart.


End file.
